Birthday Opportunities
by wazlib88
Summary: It's Hermione's twentieth birthday, and adulthood isn't going quite as she'd expected.


A/N: hello all! I must admit, this is a bit rough around the edges, but I haven't missed a birthday for Romione in years! (Though I don't know if this year's fic for Ron's birthday ever made it to this site!) This was both written and uploaded from my phone while accumulating an obscene data bill, and it's a total projection of some of my own woes, but I hope it's enjoyable! Today is also my third anniversary of posting my first fic as wazlib88 - thank you all for your lovely support over the years! I have a longer fic in the works,and I hope to post it on the sooner side of eventually. Happy Hermione's birthday, lovelies!

Disclaimer: clearly not JKR.

19 September, 1999

When he Flooed into Hermione's flat at 10 on a Sunday morning, Ron expected to see her reading on the sofa, content from eating a wholesome breakfast and completing the daily yoga and meditation session the mind healers had suggested last summer to help with some of the anxiety and stress that came with surviving a war. Instead, the flat was empty.

Peering around, Ron noticed a pile of clothing next to the sofa and a towering stack of dishes threatening to overtake the sink. Concerned, but not panicked quite yet, he tiptoed down the small hallway to Hermione's bedroom. He breathed his relief through his nostrils when he opened the door to find her in bed, tucked in a ball beneath three blankets, her wild curls peeking out to greet him.

"Having a birthday lie in, love?" Ron teased, crossing the room to shake her lightly around where he thought her ankle was. His efforts elicited a grunt as she lifted her head to meet his eyes.

"You really ought to warn me when you get here," she scolded. "If I didn't know your footsteps, I'd have hexed you."

"We'll just have to make sure you always know my footsteps," Ron reasoned. "I dunno what you want to do today, and I know you said you didn't want a party, but Harry's bought a cake and we've got presents and some really ridiculous party hats, so you don't mind if it's just the three of us tonight for a little celebration, do you?"

When he got just an "okay" and a shrug in reply, he asked, "Is everything alright?"

"Yes," she said, her voice clipped, as she sat up and yawned. "Have you had breakfast?"

"Have you not?" Ron asked incredulously. "Blimey, Hermione, you hit your twenties and the laziness sets in!"

She shot him a withering glare before sighing and crawling out of bed. "Will you hand me my dressing gown?" she asked, fishing her slippers from under the bed.

Ron did as she asked, holding it open as she slid her arms in. When she was finished, he wrapped his arms around her from behind, kissing the skin between her neck and shoulder gently. "Happy birthday," he murmured.

"Thanks," she replied, squeezing his hands once. "Sorry; I forgot what time you said you'd be round."

"That's alright, I'm just glad to see you," Ron said truthfully as he nuzzled into her hair. They hadn't found the time during the previous week; Hermione was eager to please in her new job at the Ministry, and Ron had pulled a couple of evening shifts at George's shop - he liked to help where he could, and he enjoyed it more than he'd reckoned he would.

"I really ought to have some breakfast, I suppose," Hermione remarked after a moment, slipping out of his embrace. He followed her back to the kitchen and watched as she rummaged through the mostly empty cupboards. Finally, she procured an apple for her efforts.

"I haven't been shopping in awhile," she explained when he noticed Ron's raised eyebrows. "I've been so busy, see..." She trailed off, dropping into a chair and biting into the apple before making a face. "Damn, it's gone mushy."

"Hermione," Ron began gently. "Not to be annoying, really, but..."

But he couldn't get another word out before she let out a hiccup, then a sob. Cursing, Ron knelt before her and grabbed her hand. "C'mon, Hermione, I promise, I wasn't going to criticize-"

"But you'd have been right!" she insisted. "I haven't done anything resembling a chore in nearly two weeks! My flat's a pigsty - just look at those dishes! And the fruit flies!" she shrieked, gesturing toward the rubbish bin, where a crowd of specks no bigger than the very edge of his smallest fingernail hovered. "I emptied it yesterday, but they wouldn't go away! They're everywhere."

"Hermione-" Ron tried, but she was not to be stopped.

"And I ran out of knickers, so I tried to do the laundry yesterday, but I didn't know how long the dryer would be, and some woman just threw everything on the floor when I wasn't there in time!" she continued. "I've got a list of chores and errands two pages long, and the weekends are supposed to be my time to read..." she broke off, wiping her eyes and shaking her head. "I feel stupid, see, I can transfigure anything you ask, but basic tasks-"

"Exactly!" Ron interrupted. "Why in Merlin's name aren't you using magic for all this?"

"Just because I can do something doesn't mean I should," Hermione retorted stubbornly. "Everyone else that's ever lived has had to do it this way; it shouldn't be this hard!"

"But you're working 60 hours a week! Of course you don't have time to do it the muggle way," Ron said, but Hermione just groaned again.

"NEWTs were a joke compared to work, d'you know that?" she fretted, her voice becoming increasingly high-pitched. "There's so much to do, all the time, and we're so understaffed, and my boss is so particular-"

"You said your boss loves you," Ron reminded her, squeezing her hands.

"Well, yes, she likes me just fine, but that's because I stay late to make sure things are just the way she likes," Hermione snapped, her last few words spoken as a poor imitation of what Ron could only assume was someone more posh than he'd ever met.

"Are you done?" he asked bluntly. Ignoring her cutting look, he continued, "take a breath, yeah? We can fix it." He pulled out his wand and wordlessly vanished the horde of fruit flies before setting the dishes to wash themselves.

When Hermione half-heartedly tried to protest, he said, "Just because you can do something doesn't mean you should. Muggle cleaning is one of those things; magic's not. Look, maybe when you're sat at home raising our twelve children, you'll have time to do it all by hand, but for now-"

"You do know that's not happening, right?" Hermione interrupted, though a smile was playing at her lips.

"I'm not a bloody idiot," Ron chortled. "Can you please tell me what this is really about? Is it your parents?" Since they'd brought the Grangers back from Australia, Hermione had been doing any range of mad muggle things to try to bond with them. Though Ron could not for the life of him understand why anyone considered golf an exciting game, he understood why Hermione did it.

"It's not just that," Hermione admitted quietly, biting her lip.

"So what is it?" Ron pressed, resting his hands on her knees and looking straight at her until she met his eyes.

"It'll sound mental when I say it out loud," she muttered.

"I'm used to you," he quipped.

Hermione paused a moment before finally asking, "Do you really want to have kids with me?"

Ron felt his eyes become saucers; he certainly hadn't been expecting her to zero in on that, but he knew the answer, even if it scared him. "Eventually, yeah."

"Why's that?" she asked.

"Because I love you," he answered readily.

"Why?"

"Hermione-"

"This is important, Ron!" she protested. "Please."

"Okay," he surrendered. "I love you because you're the most passionate person I know. And you're brilliant, and beautiful, and brave. C'mon, Hermione, you know all this. What's going on?"

"You're the person who knows me best in the world, and the second word you say is brilliant," Hermione said sadly. "But I'm not, don't you see?"

"I really don't," Ron said, frowning. "Don't talk like that, love-"

"Ever since I was eleven, everyone's always said how clever and bright I am," Hermione continued, blinking rapidly to keep the tears at bay. "That's the best thing anyone can ever think to say about me, that I'm the smart girl."

"Because you are," Ron insisted.

"Then why can't I do this?" Hermione cried, her eyes swimming again. "I'm twenty now, twenty, and this is the rest of my life I'm facing! These are normal things, Ron having a job and a flat, but it's too much!"

"It's just new!" he replied, rising to his feet and tugging her hands until she followed. He placed a hand gently on each of her cheeks and leant his forehead against hers. "You think Harry and I didn't feel the same way last year? Being an adult can be awful, love. Feeling that way doesn't make you a failure."

"It's just that it was supposed to be easy," she said quietly. "Not easy, but...manageable. All anyone's ever said is how wonderful I'll be at anything I choose to do, but they don't teach this in school."

"And you can't read it in a book, either," Ron added. "You said everyone calls you brilliant, yeah? But that's not what I said first."

"You said passionate," Hermione supplied.

"I did, and I didn't just mean in there," Ron quipped, nodding toward her bedroom. She rolled her eyes, but hung on to his every word. "When you really care about something, you'll do anything to see it done. Give it time. I believe in you, Hermione. Even if you weren't the brightest witch of our age, I'd believe in you because you're you."

Hermione leaned closer to brush her lips over his. "How do you know just what to say?" she whispered.

"Years of saying the wrong thing," Ron replied, causing her to giggle. "And, look, if living alone ever becomes too much, you can always move in with us."

Hermione bit her lip, shaking her head slowly. "Not because I don't want to live with you, mind, it's just..." She blushed. "I want our first place to be ours, you know? Not ours and Harry's."

"Fair enough," Ron replied. "Far easier to be naked all the time when we haven't got that git wandering through..."

"Ron!" Hermione admonished, pulling away and throwing the apple in the rubbish bin. "Honestly!"

"I'm just saying," he said, smirking. "Plenty of opportunities when it's just the two of us."

Swiveling toward the hallway, Hermione replied, "Well, perhaps we can grab a spot of breakfast from a cafe and then see about those opportunities."

Ron grinned broadly. "Knew you weren't angry," he boasted.

"Just exasperated," she teased. "And hungry."

"Then get changed and we'll go," Ron said. Before she disappeared into the bedroom, he called: "do you feel any better?"

Hermione sighed. "Honestly, not much," she replied, but she was smiling when she turned back to face him, and before he could feel too dejected, she'd crossed back to him and gripped his arms. "But you're the most wonderful person, do you know that? Even if you can't make things better, you make me better."

"You're already the best," he protested, but she shook her head.

"Don't try to talk yourself out of this compliment, Ron," she said, sliding one hand to his chest. "I love you, so much."

"Love you, too," he murmured, and then he kissed her, and everything else seemed to fall away.

Perhaps breakfast could wait while other, more interesting opportunities arose.


End file.
